


The Systematic Seduction of Wanna One

by arabmorgan



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabmorgan/pseuds/arabmorgan
Summary: An entire idol group vanishes into thin air. One of its members is the culprit.





	The Systematic Seduction of Wanna One

>   _Hello, this is Hwang Minhyun._
> 
> _The others couldn’t stay, but after our rather messy farewell party last night I stayed behind to do a bit of cleaning, so I suppose that’s why I’m the one writing this._

This is how the letter starts, the one that the manager from Brand New finds because he is the first to come and pick up his boys the morning after Wanna One officially disbands. He doesn’t find his boys though, or any boys at all for that matter – only two empty apartments, each as neat as the day Wanna One first moved in, and a single sheet of paper lying on the dining table.

When the police are called in, they find the members’ personal effects still scattered unobtrusively about the dorm. An air freshener sitting on a bedside table; bottles of lotion and make-up remover and supplements on the bathroom shelves; stacks of clothes and caps and rings and shoes, some still hanging in the closets and others already packed in suitcases.

There are three large plastic bags in the dumpsters downstairs, filled to the brim with takeout boxes, disposable plates, chicken bones and beer cans, just about enough food for a dozen or so hungry young men.

Of the eleven members themselves, however, the police find absolutely no trace at all.

* * *

>   _The past 1.5 years have been a dream for all of us, but for me most of all. I used to think that love was a joke, or just unnecessary, but here’s the thing about being loved. It’s addictive._

The thing is that he doesn’t actually expect to end up liking the other members so much – but they are so much more like him than he had expected. So eager to be loved after their first taste of adoration, but also so eager to give out their own.

With a face like his, it’s easy.

He collects their kisses like a knight keeps his lady’s favours, tucking them away safely beside his heart, more and more every day. There’s a power to kisses that they don’t realise, a little part of their soul that peels away and will stay with him for the rest of time. That is why love often leaves people feeling so raw, for they have carved out chunks of themselves and left them behind at the mercy of someone who does not know how to care for a heart that is not theirs.

He does though. He teases their kisses out one by one and keeps them inside of him, and he feels himself grow heavier and heavier with the love that they give. He hasn’t been loved in so long that he’s almost forgotten what it feels like – the burden of it, but also the sweetness.

It starts out as an idle curiosity, greed really, like the meaningless cruelty of a cat playing with its live prey. How much of their hearts can he get them to open to him before the end? And how easily? He wants them all, mind, body and soul – at first because he’s never learned to settle for less, but later because he gets hooked, and soon returning home without them becomes unthinkable.

* * *

> _I’d always planned to leave after the end, but the members gave me so much of their own hearts that I ended up deciding to take them along with me._

The youngest members are the easiest to ensnare. They are so delighted, so innocent, so relieved to find a sympathetic shoulder to lean on, and he is happy to be exactly that. He’s always been good at being what other people want.

With Jinyoung, it usually goes something like this:

“Give hyung a kiss,” he says, angling his head just so, with just the faintest hint of teasing in his tone.  It always elicits a shy snort of laughter in response, the kind of bubbly giggle that can’t decide if it wants to stay hidden or burst out into the world in sheer excitement. Jinyoung scrunches his nose up, mouth twisting into his signature smirk for just a moment before he leans forward and plants a loud, exaggerated peck on the offered cheek.

Jihoon is a little more elusive, but not quite as hard to convince as Woojin. He is the one who trails along some distance behind, hoping to be noticed but immediately turning away the moment he is; the one whose lip curls in faux distaste every time any semblance of affection is sent his way. But he sees the stars in Jihoon’s eyes when the younger boy looks his way, and the kiss when it comes is just as nervous and hopeful as he expects. Jihoon stares at him for a long moment before darting forward, rising up on his tiptoes to brush his lips past bare skin in a barely-there whisper of air, and then he escapes just as quickly, his face and neck burning crimson as he whips around the corner.

Woojin whines at every single one of his advances. It is an inevitable fact, his defensive “but _why_ , hyung” as he shies away, ducking out of reach with dogged determination. And yet he always gives in in the end, if only to escape from the persistent puckered lips that refuse to stop following him around, and the sweet air kisses that he seems to feel as a physical weight on his back. He relents with an exasperated sigh, grabbing the culprit by the shoulders and pressing his lips firmly to a chiselled cheekbone, before grumbling, “ _There_.”

The kids are like that, he comes to realise – boys who can’t wait to be men, boys who want to protect their loved ones with all their strength, but also just boys who turn into veritable puppies at the prospect of a single smidgen of affection or attention from the older members.

Daehwi is the only one who truly seems to embrace his youth, the only one of them who isn’t constantly chasing after the glamour of adulthood. He throws his arms around his hyungs when the mood strikes him, attacking them with affectionate, loud smacks of his lips and giggling with sadistic delight as they squirm in his grip. He scatters slivers of his soul liberally among the people he loves and seems to come away all the better for it.

It makes him think of his own soul, black and burned and scarred, but still somehow, miraculously intact, encased in and soothed by the pieces he has stolen from others.

He comes awfully close to sundering it in exchange for a bit of Guanlin’s. Their youngest is a black hole of affection, accepting hugs and pats with good grace but rarely returning anything more. He responds to air kisses with more of the same, before letting out his whistling dolphin giggle and flashing that silly, gummy smile that effectively staves off any frustration at his reticence. It’s painful, how much he hungers for the pure brightness that makes up Guanlin’s entire being, how much he wants to possess him fully.

“I’ll give you a kiss first if you promise to give me one,” he bargains one day, temptation at its finest as he pokes at Guanlin’s cheek with one finger. The boy looks at him with sparkling eyes, the quirk of his lips betraying his amusement, and finally he shrugs, like the entire thing hardly matters to him at all, a blasé _whatever you want, hyung_. His heart swells at that minute expression, the rush of genuine fondness filling his chest so unexpected that he has to look away.

Seongwoo calls out for him right then, a typically whiny, “ _Minhyun_!” that makes him twist around to catch sight of the other. His mouth half-opens to shout back, but Guanlin leans over to him at that very moment, so quickly that the kiss swipes past the corner of his lips and leaves him dumbstruck. He watches Guanlin chuckle to himself and settle back against the couch with his eyes already fixed back on his phone, and thinks about how wonderful it is that they can give so much love without asking for anything at all in return.

* * *

>   _Thank you and I’m sorry to all the Wannables and staff who have been with us for so long. Please remember us kindly._

Of the older members, it should come as no surprise that it is Jisung who kisses him the most. It almost becomes a routine, Jisung kissing him lightly on the forehead when he sits down in time for breakfast, or pulling him over for a quick peck on the cheek as they leave the dorm, before he can even ask for it. And yet Jisung’s heart has ever been the hardest for him to understand – how it must have poured out enough love to fill every one of them up twice over, how it still has even more pouring out for the taking.

Jaehwan feels the most familiar to him, the only of them who kisses him wanting something in return, but even then it is not for want of anything as trite as power or mercy. Jaehwan kisses him with lips and tongue, body and soul, and he can’t help parting his own lips against such insistent devotion. It really is sublime being loved, and he ends up spending hours at a time kissing Jaehwan, pressing him down and pulling raw, muffled whimpers from his throat with lips and hands alone.

Sometimes Jaehwan cradles his face between his hands, slender fingers brushing his cheeks, and kisses him so lightly that it feels like the uncertain touch of heaven’s light. He likes that better, he thinks, than the desperate kisses, the ones where Jaehwan holds on to him like the world might be ending, or perhaps just the year, and he has to pretend that he doesn’t feel Jaehwan shaking beside him as he cries himself to sleep.

Sometimes his soul feels more like Jaehwan’s than his own now, but he comes to mind that less and less with every passing day, so long as he doesn’t give more than he receives. That is how lovers become so intertwined – they have exchanged so many pieces of their souls for each other’s, until they are made up not of themselves but of the person they love. And that is why love is so dangerous, for when one half of a whole is hurt, so does the other feel pain in equal measure.

He finds Sungwoon’s heart the hardest to capture – it can only be done at the right time, at the precise magic moment. Sungwoon will laugh and offer him kisses with those plush lips, but rarely does he ever mean it in a manner that is more than tolerant, and in that way he keeps his soul all to himself. Eventually, he learns to keep close to Sungwoon on nights fraught with emotion, when they are all fragile enough for the pain to bleed through – the day of their first music show win, the first day of their last December together.

He seats himself beside Sungwoon in the van on the way back from yet another award show, and as he dozes his head dips low enough to almost brush the other’s shoulder, only partially by design. He is still half-awake when he feels it, the tender press of soft lips to his temple, before Sungwoon nudges him ever so slightly into a more upright position for the sake of his neck. There is a genuine warmth in every motion, so much more than the indulgent acts of affection that Sungwoon demonstrates at other times. These are the rare moments when he feels it, the settling of Sungwoon’s soul over his own, a fine thread of it, hard-won and fiercely cherished.

Daniel, on the other hand, is an odd mix of both Jisung and Sungwoon. He starts off hesitant, unused to showing his affections through the oft-demanded kisses, but the easiest thing about Daniel is how patently trainable he is. Soon enough not a day goes by when Daniel doesn’t pepper his face with tiny kisses when the mood strikes him, laughing to himself all the while with his front teeth flashing, his capacity for adoration seemingly, strikingly bottomless.

Funnily enough, Seongwoo is the wariest of them all – but then he’s always been sharp, even since the very beginning. There’s a certain way Seongwoo looks at him, with a depth of emotion behind his eyes that reminds him of Jaehwan, but also with a slow, careful caution. He understands right away the moment he sees that look in Seongwoo’s eyes – that with Seongwoo, it is all or nothing.

Their dance is a languid one, stretching months, taking place in every blink and every coy smile that they exchange. He brings Seongwoo out often, sharing meals between the two of them and traversing the streets shoulder-to-shoulder. He poses for Seongwoo’s camera, lifting his chin to accentuate his jawline just so, and hums with satisfaction when he sees the darkening of those sharp, liquid eyes for him and him alone.

They kiss for the first time in Seongwoo’s room, when Daniel is out at a schedule and the others are scattered throughout the rest of the apartment, anywhere else but right where they are. He pushes Seongwoo up against the door and purrs at the way the other melts beneath his touch, mouth pliant against his, and when he tries to pull away he realises that Seongwoo’s hands are fisted stubbornly in the front of his shirt.

Where Jaehwan reminds him of their end, Seongwoo chases his mouth and makes him forget everything but the present. He is a slave to this man’s kisses, to his taste and smell and touch. He lets Seongwoo kiss him until his mind is blank with lazy contentment, his barriers falling as Seongwoo stretches out beside him, one hand still resting on his, two fingers barely laced together.

But when Seongwoo breaks the silence, it is to say ever so quietly, “You’re not really Minhyun, are you?”

He, who always knows the right thing to say, is speechless for that one moment, before he laughs, quietly and without humour. “What do you mean?” he asks, as if the idea is preposterous, that one could wear a face without being that person.

Seongwoo’s fingers draw away from his, and it leaves him feeling cold, no matter if he already has so much of Seongwoo’s soul within him, as much as Seongwoo has of his. “Jisung hyung worries a lot, but he’s too kind to suspect anything,” Seongwoo murmurs, not turning to look him in the eye. “Do you really think your members don’t contact us? Jonghyun says you haven’t replied to any of their messages in months. Dongho says you avoid them even backstage. We’re not stupid, you know. _I’m_ not.”

_Ah._ “Don’t say that,” he whispers, turning and propping himself up on one elbow. “I’m Minhyun. I’m the Minhyun that you love. You know me.” And he leans forward, nudging Seongwoo’s lips apart, eyes sliding shut as he feels Seongwoo surrender beneath him.

How long has it been, he wonders. A year and just a little more, perhaps? Hardly anything really, but long enough for him to love them, and for them to love him. He is their Minhyun, and he will be for as long as they still want him.

* * *

>   _I hope you all live well and I’m sure I’ll see some of you again at some point._
> 
> _For now, this is goodbye._

It’s amusing in the most tragic way, the way they are all crying to varying degrees even as they dig into the pizza and the chicken and the beer set out before them, boys to the end.

He feels a hollow numbness in his chest at the prospect of parting. He has never been separated from anything or anyone he still desired before today, not for a very long time indeed, and he doesn’t intend to start now.

“It would be nice if we could stay together,” he ventures, a suggestion and a statement all at once. Jisung gives a wet sniffle in reply, and there are a few non-committal hums of resignation in response.

“We _do_ want to stay together, don’t we?” he pushes, and this time there is a series of nods and a downtrodden-sounding _yeah_ from Daniel. Only Seongwoo looks up to meet his steady gaze with a glint of alarm in his eyes, but he smiles placidly in return. This is all for them, for them and him both.

A small part of him wants to leave before the real screaming starts – it’s always difficult to get used to it at first, the heat and the pain and the fear – but he forces himself to watch as the ground swallows them up in an ugly miasma of smoke and sulphur. Jinyoung reaches for him at the very end – even moaning with panic and pain, his first instinct is to look to his Minhyun hyung for comfort.

“I’m coming with you,” he says reassuringly, over and over, until they are gone and everything is silent. Slowly, his feet dragging, he begins to clear the dirty dishes and the oily boxes – not every part of Minhyun is completely gone. He writes a short farewell note in neat print, and only then does he prepare to leave, back to a home that will now be filled with those who love him. He doesn’t really need to take this shell back with him – he could let Minhyun go, back to his own insignificant life – but he does, because he knows that all love is conditional, but he wants it anyway.

With an angry roar of orange flame, he fades from the mortal plane, the Devil returning to Hell where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this was conceptually a lot better in my head than the actual end product - I hope it's not too confusing...? (It probably is though.) Think of him as Satan in Christianity - fallen angel, possession, temptation and such. I almost feel bad for snagging such a good prompt bc I think another author could've done so much better with it, but it's too late now OTL
>
>> Minhyun is good at cleaning. That's why when Wanna One disbands, the police can't find a single trace of the group.


End file.
